


The Perfect Interview

by silveradept



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-12
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-06-26 03:22:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15654750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silveradept/pseuds/silveradept
Summary: In the middle of giving an interview that she's sure will end her practice and her career, Dr. Cassandra has to treat a patient. Which might be exactly the thing she needed to grow her business in stead of kill it.





	The Perfect Interview

**Author's Note:**

  * For [enviropony](https://archiveofourown.org/users/enviropony/gifts).



"Try not to look directly at the camera, if you can. This is supposed to be a conversation between two people that happens to be recorded," the interviewer says.

I smile at him, but there's no actual happiness in it. He checks to make sure the camera is ready, and then he looks at his notes for the first segment.

"Start at the beginning," he says.

I try not to laugh at him. If we did that, he'd have to accept the idea that the stuff in his books of fairy tales and children's stories describe things that continue to exist and have existed for a long time.

Most people think they can handle coming face to face with something they thought was imaginary.

Most people don't realize that unicorns are jerks until they've almost been gored by one.

"Why don't we start with your name?" he suggests, thinking that's a helpful starting point.

"Well, if you look on my diplomas, I'm Cassandra Luna Arachne Herder, B.S., M.S., D.V.M. Usually, though, that mouthful condenses down into Dr. Cassandra."

"And what do you do?" he asks.

"I practice xenozoological medicine."

"Which means?" he prompts.

Ugh. He's going to make me say it, isn't he? One snippet that can be played on every show. I'll be the example that everyone uses when they want to say they're not _that_ crazy.

I'm steeling myself to say what will sink my career forever when there's a knock at the door.

"Doc?" Melanie calls in, tentatively, muffled by the door. "Are you seeing a patient right now?"

"No, I'm doing the interview."

"Oh," Melanie opens the door. "Dana Felix is here. Squiggles got shot at last night, and she thinks something might have hit him."

I shake my head. "Unless the shot was made of pure iron, it's not generally going to hurt him."

"She says he tore a paw on some fencing getting away."

"Ah."

Feymounts are tricky to take care of in the best of times. One with potential iron poisoning is not what I want to deal with this morning, given that I'm already stressed about this interview, but I also know Dana wouldn't show up without calling unless it was an emergency.

"Duty calls," I say to the interviewer. "I'll be back."

Squiggles is doing their best to ignore Melanie as I enter the waiting area. At least, as much as a mountain lion can make motions and facial expressions of disdain and ignorance. They still thinks of humans as good for entertainment or as servants, which is a pretty common attitude among most of the creatures I have to deal with.

"How high was the barbed wire on the fence you tried to jump when you were cattle rustling last night, Squiggles?"

They shake their head in denial. I know they're lying to me, because the newspaper article about a cougar getting shot at by farmers described them to a tee. I know Dana likes being reminded of good times in Pullman, but it seems like most farmers will shoot something that looks dangerous first and then call a vet later if it turns out to have been something less deadly to their livestock.

"Can I see the paw, Squiggles?" I say.

They turn over their left front paw, and I understand why Dana brought them. Their blood is bubbling at the edges of the wound, and there's no sign of any scabs or scars forming. Usually, iron contact is more like a severe allergic reaction - inflammation, rash, a desire to itch the thing that definitely should not be itched. More severe contact could cause the exposed areas to blister and behave more like serious burns. The way that Squiggles' paw was reacting, it might still have iron in it. Walking or running on it probably drove the iron in deeper. They was lucky it hadn't taken residence somewhere that would have killed them.

"Melanie, would you get some ferropowder, please? We'll have to soak," I said. One of the fastest ways of pulling iron out of a Fey body, I've learned, is to soak the affected appendage in a mixture of water, magnemite, and magnesium sulfate. Softens the flesh and promotes movement of the iron particles toward the surface, where Fey biology takes over expelling the stuff away and healing the affected areas once it's gone. It's inexpensive, it's effective, and it hurts like hell, which is why I tend to try and use it only in serious situations.

Melanie heads to the supply room while I stopper the sink in one of the patient rooms and draw warm water into it. A short while later, she returns and I measure out the dose and dissolve it in the water.

"Squiggles, soak your paw in the water. Five minutes should get most of the iron out."

Squiggles stares at me, knowing fully what's in store for them, but eventually submerges their hand in the sink and starts to yowl. For as much pain as the process actually causes, there's not much to see other than an increase in bubbling at the site of the wound. I think the closest experience humans would get is if you had to apply a chemical to a wound that looked like hydrogen peroxide and felt like hydrochloric acid.

I can tell it's working. Squiggles' yowls are beginning to sound more human, and their cougar body is beginning to shift back into the human-like form most Fey use when they're interacting with humans. One of the side effects of iron is that it disrupts a Fey's ability to use whatever magic they have. For Feymounts, it usually means they're stuck in whatever form they got exposed with.

"....owww, _fuck_ , Doc, that hurts. Haven't you figured out a less painful way to do that?" Squiggles complained, pulling a much healthier-looking and significantly more human hand out of the sink.

"You should be glad she decided to treat you at all," Dana snaps at them. I still don't see whatever legendary compatibility they're supposed to have as a Feymount and their chosen partner, but Squiggles knows not to push it when Dana's not on their side.

"Oh my God," the interviewer, who I have completely forgotten about, says to his camera operator. "Please tell me you recorded that." The camera operator gives him a thumbs up in reply.

Well, at least now there's proof on the camera that I'm not insane. Or at least that special effects have gotten a lot better than we thought.

Squiggles never actually says what they were doing that got them hurt, nor do they say any sort of thank you, but Dana smiles at us, calls us the best, as if there were others she could go to, and pays the bill without complaining. She also leaves her contact information for the interviewer.

The interviewer looks a little dazed when we sit back down in my office.

"As I was saying," I said to him, "I practice xenozoology and veterinary medicine. Most of the animals I see are native to Earth and can be treated with medicine and technology from Earth."

"For the last five years, for reasons that I'm still not entirely sure of, I've also been seeing unicorns, pegasi, Feymounts, kitsune, miniature water horses, salamanders, sea hares, and several Bast-cats. I've had to do the occasional house call for dragons, forest guardians, river creatures, rocs, and quite possibly the phoenix herself."

"No werewolves?" the interviewer asked.

"No," I said. "Were-anythings don't respond well to treatment, even when they can be made safe enough to approach."

The interviewer chewed over his next question for a bit. Seeing Squiggles had clearly changed what he was going to ask me about. It's a lot harder to dismiss someone as a crackpot when you've seen the same things together.

"Can we go see them?"

"No," I said. Maybe it was Squiggles affecting me with his attitude, but I felt annoyed and wanted to get the interview done with much more than when I'd started.

"They don't like visitors," I continued. "Maybe, if you're lucky, and you treat everyone around you with the respect they deserve, you might meet something or someone unusual. Maybe they will decide we're worthy and just show up."

The interviewer nodded, and then stood up, offering his hand.

"Thank you for your time," he said. "We'll be in contact about when it airs."

I shook his hand, fully expecting that the interview would never see broadcast anywhere. That was okay. It had been nice to have someone else see what I dealt with daily. I saw the crew out to their car and watched them drive away.

Melanie had a big smile when I came back in.

"Great interview," she said, winking at me. "We'll get all sorts of business from this."

"I don't think it's going to be broadcast," I told her. "Even if Dana says it's okay, I'm still going to look like I'm pulling a hoax."

Melanie smiled again. "Don't be silly," she said. "They're one of the best local reporters we have."

"We?"

"Well, sure," she said, dismissively. "I'm not just going to invite any old fairy with a notebook to come see what Marchioness Cassandra is doing with her life."

"Excuse me?" I said. "I don't believe I heard you correctly."

Melanie looked at me questioningly. "You do know that your family has a hereditary title in the Seelie Court, don't you? Why else would members of the community come to see you?"

"...no?"

Even as I said it, though, things started to make sense in ways they hadn't before. About why I was the person blessed with this knowledge. Mom telling me that being a princess was overrated. Reading my storybooks and fairy tales and having Mom laugh about all the "inaccuracies." A hundred other small things, that if I had taken the time to look at them together, would had a screamed at me that our family wasn't all human.

It was almost too much to stand. Thankfully, there was a chair to sit in.

"Start at the beginning," I said.


End file.
